


New Perspective

by orphan_account



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Ghost Drifting, M/M, Newt has terrible vision, Newton Geiszler Has ADHD, teen rating is for the swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Newt, somehow, breaks his glasses even further. Hermann helps.





	New Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> newt's eyesight/lack thereof is heavily inspired by my own terrible vision (in fact most of the annoyances he deals with come straight from my life - reading w/o glasses, being unable to see expressions and facial features w/o glasses, etc). if you can't relate, you're lucky.   
> anyways, please enjoy!!

"Ah, shit," Newt says. He rubs his thumb over the cracks in his glasses, now expanded to both lenses. Getting drunk last night may not have been such a good idea. He puts them back on again, testing them, and finds, for the third time, that he can't see shit with them broken like this. He doesn't have contacts, either - the last shipment of those he could afford ran out 4 years ago. He sighs. "Hermann, how long do you think it'll take to get my glasses replaced?"

Hermann pauses from erasing his writing from his chalkboard and turns around to face him as he comes in. He looks patchy and refracted through Newt's broken lenses. "I'm not sure. You really can't see with that tiny crack?"

Newt walks closer, stopping under Hermann's ladder, and holds up the glasses for him to see. Hermann sighs dramatically. "Oh, of course." 

Newt tries his best not to feel offended by the comment and sits down at his desk. He's still got paperwork to fill out, about this and that - honestly, he couldn't give less of a shit about it. He shuffles the papers and tries to read them, but they're too blurry from this far away. He leans in, squinting. Still blurry. He leans in farther, farther - and his nose brushes the paper before the tiny print becomes clear enough to read. He groans dejectedly. If he has to ask for these stupid files to be re-printed in a larger font, he's going to die from pure shame. He resigns himself to squinting a half-inch from the paper and sets to work. 

It works fine for most of the day - he's hyper-focused on it, anyway, so he hardly notices several hours have flown by when his watch beeps. His own personalized lunch bell, magically not broken. He leans up, tries to straighten his neck, but is stopped by a sharp pain. He winces and tries to move his head into a comfortable position that isn't angled downwards, with no success. He groans loudly again. The day just keeps getting better and better. He stands, ignores the twinge in his back, and heads for the mess hall, staring at his shoes. 

 

By the time he gets back to the lab, he's managed to work the kink out of his neck and is successfully ignoring his sore back. Hermann is filing his assortment of papers into boxes when he swings the door open, and he doesn't even bother to look up from his work, just greets Newt with a short "Hello," and goes back to his papers. Newt huffs. He wishes he could see Hermann's expression from here. Damn his bad vision. Maybe his dad  _was_ right - sitting within a foot of the television screen really did fuck up his eyes, it seems. 

He's done with paperwork for the day, thank God, but he still has jars and tanks full of Kaiju organs to organize and log, and he can hardly tell which is which. Every tank is just a smudge of yellow or blue, now. He _really_ doesn't want to lean and bend and whatever else to do his job for the rest of the day. He can't even see where his pen is writing on his paper, or what the words say. Deep in thought, he almost misses Hermann trying to slip discreetly out the door. 

"Hermann!" He calls. He can hardly tell Hermann is turned around, but hears a sigh. "Where're you going, man?"

"I'm finished for the day," He answers. 

"Oh," Newt says. He pauses, and an idea pops into his brain. "Hey, since you have nothing to do, would you mind...helping me?" The question is met with silence, so Newt assumes Hermann is giving him a blank and/or angry look right now. He rolls with it. "Come on, I've been way slower today without my full vision, and without help I could be here trying to organize this shit until 3 am. Please?" There's another pause, but Newt hears the sound of Hermann's cane getting closer, so he cheers. _Success_. 

Hermann comes into slightly more focus as he gets closer, and when he's only a few feet away, Newt can just barely tell that his expression is, in fact, an angry one - or at least a frustrated one. His mouth turns down in a certain way when he makes that face, and Newt really wishes he could see it right now. He _loves_ that face, it's goddamn hilarious and almost cute at the same time. His face pales for a quick second, remembering the slight buzz of their ghost drift, and he hopes Hermann didn't hear that. 

"So, uh," He manages to stutter out, "Just read the label on each one and I'll record them in order, then we can organize them." 

Hermann nods, or at least jerks his head in a nod-like motion, and peers up at the first label and reads it out loud. Newt squints down at his paper and jots the name down. Hermann moves on, and Newt follows, nearly bumping into him. They repeat the process - minus the bumping, thank God - until they reach the last jar. Newt writes down the name of the specimen and sighs in relief. 

"Whew! Thank God that's over." He chuckles. "Except now I have to organize them. Fuck." 

"Leave it for tomorrow," Hermann says. "It's nearly 8 o'clock." 

Newt squints down at his watch. _7:52_. He frowns. "Oh, shit. Time got away from us, I guess." 

"Indeed." Hermann says. 

"Hey, wait, Hermann," Newt sighs. He can already tell what he's about to ask is going to be a terrible fucking idea. "Would you maybe mind if you...walked me to my room? It's just I usually rely on the signs when I go from here to there, and I don't usually pay attention to the route-"

" _Alright_ ," Hermann snaps, and then pauses. Newt can almost feel his guilt from here. "Sorry. I've forgotten you can't see. I was holding up a hand to get you to stop. Yes, I'll walk you to your room."

Newt grins, goes for a playful punch to Hermann's arm, and misses. With a weak, awkward chuckle, he pats his breast pocket to make sure he still has his glasses - not that they'll ever work for him again - and follows his lab partner out of the door. He follows him a step behind, and tries his best to remember the route it takes to get from the lab back to his quarters. Hermann seems to know he needs the practice and walks fairly slowly, letting Newt look for blurry markers at his own pace. Once at Newt's room, he fumbles with his key. Before he goes inside, Hermann stops him with a light hand on his arm.

"By the way," He says. It almost looks like he has a mischievous glint in his eye, but Newt really can't tell. _Fuck_ having shitty vision. "When you first asked me to help you organize your specimens, you were looking about two feet to my left." He walks off, cane tapping the ground, until Newt can't distinguish his plain brown blazer from the colors of the hallway anymore. 

 

Newt finds his way to the lab the next morning with little trouble, but it does take him twice as long as it normally does. When he finally makes it inside, he's 5 minutes late. In his rush to get to his desk, he knocks over a fan, and nearly falls over himself trying not to let it hit the floor and break. Successful in his first task of the day, and more than a little embarrassed (he can feel Hermann's eyes boring to the back of his skull), he picks up his clipboard from the previous day and gets back to work. He organizes the specimens on paper, first, and then starts to put them in boxes. When his watch beeps, signifying lunch time, he's hardly halfway done. 

"God, this fucking _sucks_." He groans, and plops down into his chair. It scoots back nearly a foot with the force. It occurs to him, then, that's he's forgotten something. "Shit! I haven't even ordered new glasses!" 

"Quite the oversight," Hermann says from the other side of the room. Newt wants to glare at him, but he can't even see where he is, and he doesn't want a repeat of the 'specimens' incident from yesterday. He resorts to glaring down at his clipboard, only half filled out. He wants to shout in frustration, but he doesn't want Hermann to make another snide comment that he can't glare at him for, so he stays silent, fuming. After a second, Hermann cuts back in. "Are you going to lunch?"

"Yeah," Newt huffs. He recalls yesterday's meal, and how he'd taken three times as long to find the mess hall _before_ someone pointed him in the right direction, and how he'd casually asked Raleigh to get his meal for him, lying about a migraine. He doesn't think that trick will work two days in a row, but he's _really_ hungry, and he doesn't want to wait another 20 minutes to eat. "Sorry, but would you mind walking me again?"

Hermann sighs, but stays blissfully silent. Newt turns around and sees Hermann standing in the middle of the lab between their desks. Well, less that he _sees_ Hermann, and more that he _knows_ it's Hermann, despite the fact that all he can see is a brown and tan and black blob in the middle of the room. He hops out of his chair and follow him out of the lab and into the hall. 

"How did you find it yesterday?" Hermann asks when they're halfway there. 

Newt cringes. "I, uh, I had to ask someone for directions. And it still took me three times as long to get there." 

Hermann chuckles. Newt really wishes he had new glasses or working eyes right now, because despite how much he loves Hermann's laugh, he loves his smile even more. Hermann's chuckle gets cut short, and Newt feels his face heat up. _Goddamn ghost drifting, do you always have to fuck shit up?!_ He thinks to himself, trying not to think too loud - if one can even think quietly. Hermann eases up beside him.

Once in the mess hall, they head to the line. Hermann is kind enough to read him the menu out loud, and to move his hand gently to the right when he's miscalculated where the empty spot on his plate is. He steers him towards their table, nudging him with the edge of his tray, and sits down at the seat across from him. They eat in comfortable silence, listening to the bustle and chatter in the cafeteria around them. 

"Will you get the same frames when you get your new glasses?" 

Newt looks up from his plate, raising an eyebrow. "I don't know. Why?" 

Hermann shrugs. Newt squints - is he...blushing? _Fuck, I really need those new glasses_. "I was just curious."

Newt mirrors him with a shrug of his own. "I don't know, really. I'll have to see. Wearing a plain black pair for like 10 years has gotten kind of boring." He thinks on it for a second. "You know, I could get those ones...what are they called? Do they have a name? They have like the thick frame on top and then a wire frame at the bottom?"

Hermann nods. "I think I know what you're talking about." 

Newt smiles. "Right. We'll see, though." 

 

He orders his new glasses that night, after Hermann has left, trusting he'll be able to get back to his room on his own. He scrolls through the frames, leaning close and squinting at the screen. The pain in his back and neck only make him scroll faster, more urgently, and he has to double back and look through a page again, just prolonging the whole ordeal. After a solid 45 minutes of scrolling and narrowing down his choices, he makes a decision. He attaches a link to his prescription and size and adds a note to the bottom: 'please send quickly, i am sick and tired of squinting at everything' and hits _confirm order_. 

 

It's been nearly a week since he saved the world and, subsequently, broke his glasses. Hermann had actually _offered_ to walk him back to his room tonight, and they'd chatted idly about whatever on the trip. He went to bed happy. 

He doesn't wake up that way. 

Sometime in the night, he wakes up in a cold sweat. His heart is racing and his mind is going a mile a minute, maybe even more. He tries to slow down his breathing, but he's tiptoeing the line into full blown panic attack territory, and breathing exercises are not going to work for him now. He grips his thin sheets in his fists and tries to piece the nightmare back together. The whole thing is a mess, just blurry images of neon blue lights swirling around in the night. It takes a second, and then the memory hits him full force - Otachi's neon blue tongue, made blurry by his lack of glasses, swirling around him that night in Hong Kong. He shudders, fumbling for his glasses. When he puts them on, he remembers they're broken, and stares out at his dark room, obscured by the cracks in his lenses. 

All hope of getting back to sleep is abandoned at this point, so he rolls out of bed, still shaking, and leaves the room. It's nearly impossible to see where he's going, what with the minimal light in the hall and his lack of clear vision. Eventually, he finds his way to an adjacent hall, and then, to Hermann's front door. He hesitates, turning on his watch's back-light. _2:16_. He sighs. _Fuck it,_ he thinks, andknocks. 

There's a pauses, and he knocks again. From inside, he hears a faint groan and the sound of a cane on the floor. The door swings open a second later, revealing Hermann. For once, Newt is glad he can't see expressions clearly anymore, because he can tell what face Hermann would be making right now. Hermann sighs. "What do you want, Newton?"

Newt fiddles with his bracelet, feeling awkward and guilty. "Sorry, Hermann. I'd have gone to the lab, but I still can't see." He chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. It doesn't work - Hermann remains silent. He clears his throat. "I had a nightmare, and there's nothing to distract me. Can I come in?" 

With a frustrated sigh, Hermann steps back from the door, clearing the way for Newt to enter. He does, and shuts the door quietly behind him. Newt takes a seat at his desk, and Hermann sits across from him on his bed. The creak it makes when it moves under his weight fills the whole, silent room. Newt can tell Hermann is staring at him, and he glances down at his Kaiju-patterned socks. They're one big navy blue smudge from his point of view. 

"Would you like to talk about it?" Hermann asks. 

Newt shakes his head, trying to hide his surprise at the question. "No. It was just...a memory. Of Hong Kong. Otachi." He shifts his weight in the desk chair. "You've probably seen it." 

"I have." Hermann confirms. He mirrors Newt's movements and shifts his weight, before moving to get back in bed. After a moment of silence, he gestures towards the empty space beside him and clears his throat. "Would you like to stay?" When Newt says nothing, just stares at him in shock, he averts his gaze. "Human contact would be good for your mental state at the moment, I-"

"Yeah, yeah, Hermann, I can stay," Newt says hastily. He stands up and flicks off the room's lights before crawling under the sheets next to him. He shifts his weight a couple of times, rolling over onto his side and then onto his stomach, before closing his eyes. 

Hermann chuckles. "Please don't tell me you shift that much in your sleep."

Newt shrugs as best he can. "I don't know. No one else I've shared a bed with ever mentioned it, but you never know." He smiles up at Hermann. The combination of the dark and his shitty eyesight make it impossible to know what expression he's making, but Newt thinks he can see a tiny smile form on his face before he settles down and closes his eyes.

 

He wakes up the next morning in an unfamiliar bed, clinging onto a pillow for dear life. He blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the bright room, and looks around. Okay, _definitely_ not his room. He pauses, then remembers the previous night. _This is Hermann's room_. He can hear a shower running in the next room, and can barely make out a pair of dress shoes next to the door. _Definitely Hermann's room_. He throws off the sheets and sits on the edge of the bed, tapping his feet and waiting for him to be done with his shower. 

Hermann comes out of the bathroom a couple of minutes later, fully clothed, but with his hair still damp. He grabs his cane from it's place on the other side of the door-frame and sits down next to Newt on the edge of his bed. "Get a good night's sleep?" He's got a frustrated but playful expression - that's Newt's best guess, at least - and a small smile. 

Newt winces a little. "Did I flop around?" 

"Like a fish." 

He sighs. "Sorry, dude. I'll try not to do it again." He realizes what he says a second later, and so does Hermann. They glance at each other for a second. Newt chuckles. "Well - sorry."

"Well," Hermann says. He breaks eye contact and stands, leaning on his cane for support. "We should get going. To work. Do you need to go get dressed or are you just going to the lab in your pajamas?"

Newt glances down at his flannel pajama pants, decorated with the Star Trek insignia. "Uh, yeah. You can go ahead." 

Newt has to get ready faster than he normally does, what with the walk back to his room, getting ready, and then finding his way to the lab without full use of his vision. He falls over trying to get his pants on, and then again while trying to pull on his shoe while standing up. He's actually glad his new glasses aren't here yet, or he would've already broken them. He touches the new sore spot on his cheekbone and rushes out the door. 

The lab is quiet besides the sound of Hermann shuffling his papers as he files them away. Newt can see a blurry glow where his computer is turned on. Neither he nor his lab partner have packed up their computers yet, and Newt suspects they'll be the last things to go. Newt sits at his own desk, now practically empty except for a few junk drawers he hasn't cleaned out and the aforementioned computer. He powers it on and leans forward to squint at the screen, reading through his e-mails. 

"Dr. Geiszler! There you are." Herc strolls into the room, breaking the comfortable silence, his arm still in a sling. He hands Newt a small package. "You got a delivery. I sent one of the interns to bring it to your room this morning, but you weren't there." He casts a look at Hermann, who's pointedly avoiding eye contact. Herc raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'll leave you to it." He exits the room quicker than he came, almost at a jog. 

Newt tries not to think about what he may be implying, and distracts himself with the package. He grabs his spare scalpel from a desk drawer he hasn't emptied yet and cuts it open. He sifts through a layer of packing peanuts before he gets to the item - his new pair of glasses, in a sturdy black case. He grins and takes them out, shoving the box away. "Hermann, my glasses came!" He says excitedly, and flips open the case. He puts the glasses on, and, for the first time in over a week, the world is clear. He grins - he can see the leaky pipes on the ceiling again, and the Kaiju Blue stains on the floor. He turns to look at Hermann.

Hermann is staring at him, his mouth hanging open. Newt frowns, snaps his fingers in front of his own face. Hermann snaps out of it, a blush spreading across his face. "Sorry," He mumbles. "You look...different. In a good way." 

Newt grins, hopping off to the bathroom to get a good look at his new frames. They're the ones he'd brought up at lunch before, with a thick black frame at the top and a thinner wire piece at the bottom. They suit him. Well, honestly, he looks a bit like Rick Moranis in _Little Shop of Horrors_ , but not in a bad way, and not too much. He heads back into the lab proper, satisfied with his pick. 

He catches Hermann glances at him throughout the rest of the day and pretends not to notice. Even though he can see, he still asks Hermann to walk him back to his room. Hermann seems to know he doesn't need his help anymore, but agrees anyway, and they take the 5 minute walk in silence, with only the sound of footsteps and Hermann's cane filling the empty space. When Newt unlocks his door and pushes it open, Hermann turns to go, but he grabs him by the sleeve of his coat and tugs him back. 

"Uh," Newt rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, feeling a blush creep its way onto his cheeks. "Would you want to...stay the night?"

Hermann blinks. With Newt's now perfect vision, he can see the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks, too. "Do you think you'll have another nightmare?"

"No," Newt says. "You being there might help, though. Maybe."

Hermann bites his lip, glancing down the hall. "Alright." 

**Author's Note:**

> writing this has made me realize how much i rely on my glasses and how fucked i would be if they got broken, which is always a fun thing to realize.  
> anyway, thanks for reading!! i hope you enjoyed it :^) !!


End file.
